


All I want for Christmas is you

by Hyobe



Series: Mordices!verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Porn Without Plot, Season 1, Stanford Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 12:37:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13248390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyobe/pseuds/Hyobe
Summary: Dean visits Sam at Stanford for Christmas





	All I want for Christmas is you

**Palo Alto, Stanford, California - December 2004**

  
        He’s bent over the table, finishing another one of the dozen of essays he has to complete. He’s exhausted, out of coffee, cramped to the bone since his chair broke two hours ago and bored to death but he has to finish this. Passing one hand before his eyes he sighs, grabbing a pack of cigarettes stuck between the hideous lamp Jess left on his desk as a birthday present — he’d never tell her that because she loves it more than her own dog but he, on the other hand, is nowhere near a fan of this pink-candle-lamp who spits used gum up and down in an "hypnotic" motion — and one of the four empty cups of coffee aligned in front of him. One click, he inhales the smoke, keeps it down for as long as he can as he throws his head back, staring at the ceiling. Infected Mushrooms is playing in his headphones, taking him away, lifting his soul slowly like the smoke escaping his mouth, dripping from his lips. He tries to inhale it again, doesn’t work. The cigarettes slips back in his mouth and he goes back to work, ink leaving it’s track on white paper that’ll end up thrown somewhere in a year or two.

Someone knocks on the door but he doesn’t hear it. Usually, Jess would open the door because usually it’s one of her numerous girlfriends coming to gossip or work on whatever it is they have to for their next class. Usually they’d be loud, there’d be a sweet smell of popcorn and hot chocolate in their apartment, maybe a dog sniffing around his legs or a chihuahua barking, there’d be some rock music from the last band à la mode. Tonight there is none of that. Tonight he’s alone because Jess is with her family for Christmas and he lied about being with his. Tonight there’s no laughs, no sweet smell, no dog, no rock, no one. The knocks turn louder and harder against his door but he still doesn’t hear them, he’s too focused on the smoke pooling against the ceiling or the words he's scribbling down or the Deftones song that followed the one he was listening to. He’s too bewitched by the smooth drifts of a guitar and a sensual voice licking his brain to fathom any other sounds. The knocks have vanished. He slips one hand in his sweatpants, scratching his pubes as he concentrates again on the task before him.

There’s someone behind him. He feels it. Feels the eyes burning against his nape, the heat a foreign body produces in such a cold room, the creaks their weight creates when they walk. He keeps writing, waiting for an attack. He lowers the volume of his music, tries to be as relaxed as possible when he goes for the knife stashed behind his desk. The individual comes for him when he does that, steady, slowly. He stops centimeters away from him. Good. Knife in his hand, he pushes himself back against the intruder, pining him with all his weight against his bed, one hand going immediately for the attacker’s while his leg snake their way around his, blocking the man against his mattress and under him. There’s a chuckle against his ear, one he knows too well and can recognize even with someone screaming in his ears. A hand slides against his belly, fast and precise. He shivers. It goes up to his throat, callous fingers tightening there, threatening. He doesn't try to remove it.

« Hello to you too Sammy. » The intruder murmurs as he places a soft kiss on top of Sam’s head. Freeing his hand from Sam’s, he grips his wrist, twisting it to make the knife fall.  
« Dean ? What are you doing here ? »  
« Just came to see my little brother for Christmas. I missed ya. » Dean keeps him there for a while longer before pushing him on the side, getting up.  
« You could have called ! Or knocked. »  
« I did. Knock I mean, I wanted to surprise you. » Sam gets up, grabbing Dean’s wrist to pull him into his arms. He hugs him with as much strength as possible. He can’t believe Dean is here, that he came to spend Christmas with him from the other side of the United States, probably. Dean slides his arms around Sam’s hips, tightening his own embrace. Their noses are in each other’s neck, breathing a smell they’ve known their whole life, a smell they both missed for so long it aches to finally breathe it again, burns. Dean slides one hand in Sam’s hair and pulls, just a little before he relaxes his grip into caresses.

«  I missed you too. » Sam chokes. He tells himself he’s not crying. Dean lets him go just a little and kisses away his brother’s tears, hands tightening where they’re gripping. « - I bet you have a lot of shit to tell me after what, two years ? Three ? »

« Two years and seven months. » He feels more than he sees Sam’s shocked look as he whispers it against his face. Dean watches intently as Sam starts biting his lips and the light in his eyes becomes even brighter behind the tears still dripping from them, how he flushes suddenly as he pulls Dean tighter against him. « I was counting. »

« You’re the best. » He answers face flushed in his brother’s neck, hands grabbing everywhere they can. Sam’s so happy. He feels like the luckiest motherfucker on the earth. He feels whole, loved, protected. He feels small again.

« We can do anything you want Sam, I’ve got a present for you tomorrow but until then, we can do everything you ask. Whatever it is. »

Sam sits on the bed, hands stil on Dean as he watches him, thinking. « Can we watch Christmas movies and eat popcorn ? And… I don’t have a present for you since I didn’t really know you’d come.» He demands with a small voice, puppy dog eyes already working their way into Dean’s favor.

« Kay, you put the movie on and I’ll go make some popcorn and change. And it’s no biggie. Yer all I want for Christmas.» Dean says unable to hide the enthusiasm in his voice.  
« You’re so cheesy. You're changing ? »  
« Ain’t staying in my jacket for a marathon. » He chuckles, leaving the room.

Ten minutes later they’re on the bed, Bad Santa starting on the huge TV Screen Sam installed in his room, Jess got it from her sister who decided she didn’t need it anymore after her marriage with some Amish dude. « Whatcha planned for tonight Sammy ? » Dean asks with a mouthful of popcorn. Sam frowns and grabs his own handful of them, pushing them one by one in his mouth. « We got Gremlins, Bad santa, The Grinch, Home Alone 1 and 2. » Dean’s eyebrows fly as an amused grin draws itself on his face. He has one arm around Sam’s waist, his legs under his and his head niched above Sam’s. « You really don’t want us to sleep tonight, do ya ? »

« Nope. » He answers scooting closer to Dean. « Tell me what you’ve been up to. »  
Why ? »  
I’m curious ? » Sam’s looking at him now, one hand on his sides and lips too close to his collar bone for it to be healthy. Dean tries to ignore the soft press of them against his skin and the hot breath escaping from them but he can’t, knows that he’ll fail miserably at that. « Please Dean ? You said you’d do anything I want. »  
Dean never knew how to say no to Sam. « Mostly random hunts ya know, werwolves, vampires, evil dwarfs, the usual. And uh, Dad and I split because he thought I was experienced enough and that we’d cover more hunts if we were separated I guess. He was mad at me for something I think but never said what so yeah, cold war between us ever since. And you ? Whatcha been doing since ya left ? »

Sam sighs. « Well ya know, college. Not much to say besides I work and work and work. And uh, I learned how to surf. »

« You did what now ? » He can’t believe that his little brother did that. It’s so odd for him who never even thought he’d have the chance to learn such a thing. It makes him… happy. Yes, hearing Sam doing normal stuff, stuff that he fancies and makes him happy gives him more joy than he can stomach. He imagines him surfing the wave, wet hair everywhere on his face, drops dripping all over his body. He imagines how sun kissed Sam’s skin must be now. « I learned how to surf. » Sam reiterates, eyes flying back to the TV screen. Santa’s fucking some chick now, they both scoff. Dean slides his hand a little closer to Sam’s navel, pressing it softly. Sam eyes him playfully.

« You want something ? » He whispers. Dean should only hear an innocent question asked from a brother to another but all he can hear is the innuendos behind it. He lowers his hand to Sam’s waist, slipping it under his shirt to have a real skin on skin contact. Sam shivers. « I might. » Dean answers with a raspy voice. « I could give you a treat, for old time’s sake. What do you think ? » Sam lets out a breathy chuckle, his head leveling to Dean’s. « I think that you should make it up to me for all this time lost. » He slides his leg between Dean’s, getting on his four to tower him. « I think you know exactly how to do that. »

Dean grabs a strand of Sam’s hair, bringing his face closer to his. He feels soft streaks against his cheeks, idling in rhythm with the air that lands on his lips. He wants this more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life. It’s a need he hasn’t felt in a long time, a need so strong it hurts, so strong he’s scared he’ll explode if he’s denied the object of his desire. Sam huffs. His eyes lost somewhere between Dean’s freckles and his lips and his eyes. One hand slightly trembling against his cheek. He’s relieved, he’s sad, he’s completely mesmerized, he’s devastated. He doesn’t know what he wants, he doesn’t know what to do, he doesn’t care about what’s morally wrong, he doesn’t care if cares. It’s a debate he’s never resolved with himself. He’s not sure if he can now.

« Tell me what you want Sammy. » Dean murmurs.

« I want you to kiss me Dean. »

And he obliges. He presses his lips against Sam with a tenderness they both hadn't realized they’d missed. It feels like they’re one once again, as if a gaping hole had been filled finally. They stay there, unmoving, savoring each second of contact. They lap against each other’s mouth, lick and bite until they’re messy with saliva dripping on their chins. Dean has let go of Sam’s hair and locked him between his arms, forcing him to press himself down on him. Santa’s pissing himself on TV but they don’t even hear it, numbed by the sound of their hearts beating frantically and the wet pop their mouths make when they leave each other, and the swift slip of their tongues, ragged breaths, mumbled names and sweet nothings whispered between two kisses. It’s slow, it’s soft, it’s loving, it’s desperate but it’s everything they need, everything they’ve ever dreamed of.

Sam’s hard in his sweatpants, he shivers every time he moves, trembles like a leaf between Dean’s hands where it seems he’s back to being a lanky teenager riddled with insecurities. He feels as if he’s being enticed on a path taking him to a place he’ll never leave, he’s not sure he’ll make it back. Each kiss is a new step, each caress is another mile, each breath is another lock closing on the golden cage he had left years ago. Dean’s hands drag themselves against the skin of his back, scratching softly because he remembers how much it affects Sam. He slides them under Sam’s sweatpants, his lips never leaving their spot. Soft skin unravels under his palms, round and firm asscheeks he fully grabs with no reserve. They moan. His index slips between them as he bites Sam’s lips, dragging it for seconds that last forever. They rut against each other, desire ravishing their most rational thoughts. They engulf themselves back into their bubble. Back where it’s only them loving each other. It’s a bubble of love, sex and misery.

Dean pushes Sam up slowly, his lips leaving his to trail down his chin. He bites softly, licks and laps on his adam’s apple. He sucks, sucks, sucks, sucks until every part of his neck is reddish. And Sam’s above him, breathing hard. « Dean… Come on. » The latter stops, mouthing against Sam’s jaw. « Yes Sammy ? Whatcha need ? » He murmurs in a voice hesitating between amused and desperately wanting.

« Enough foreplay. I need more. » Sam demands. He grips Dean’s hair, keeping him away from his neck for a second. Dean toys with him, passes his finger between his cheeks in a slow rhythm, puts in just the tip for seconds before retrieving it.

« Say please ? » Dean ask maliciously, one hand lowers Sam’s pants just under his ass, leaving it exposed. Sam rolls his eyes. « Please Dean. »

Dean put his hand in front of Sam’s face, two fingers pressing against his mouth firmly, begging to be let in. Sam opens his mouth, eyes closing as two fingers slide on his tongue and he takes care of them. Licks them with a passion, swirls his tongue around them as if he had popsicles in his mouth. He gently bites while Dean slaps him harder and harder on the ass, giving him the occasional moan when he hit the right spot.

« That’s it. Good boy. » Sam keeps them in his mouth, relaxing more and more the longer they stay in his mouth. They taste like oil, popcorn and some hint of vanilla. It’s familiar, it’s his second favorite. Dean takes back his fingers and he whines, eyes questioning why his brother had the audacity to take back what he craved. Two hands cup his face, leveling his glare to two green eyes observing his with unlimited appetite. A thumb graze his inferior lips, applying a soft pressure against it.

« Tell me Sammy, would you like to suck my dick ? » Sam’s breath gets stuck in his throat as his pupils blow up. He’s a starved dog craving his bone. He’s already ready to go down, his hands fumbling with Dean’s fly. But Dean places his right hand above his, stopping him. His tongue clicks and he grins. « Don’t be in such an hurry, if you make it last long enough I’ll pound you into the mattress so hard you won’t walk straight for a whole week. »

« Only a week ? » He ask with effrontery, a smile painting itself on his face. Dean lets out a breathy laugh, placing his hands behind his head and laying back against the headboard. Sam goes back to his previous task, opening Dean’s fly. He puts two fingers in his brother’s underwear, pulling it lower and lower until half of his dick is out, he grabs it between one hand and licks his lips before pulling it to his mouth. His tongue slides on the head before he slides it down Dean’s length until he reaches his balls, lapping between them. He wraps his hand around the base and starts jacking Dean off, he twists his wrist in rhythm with the lap of his tongue. Sam sucks on one of his balls, taking it fully in his mouth.

« Oh god ! » Dean gasps, hand going for Sam’s head. They never break eye contact, not even when Sam goes back to lap at his head before taking him in his throat as much as he can. He swallows his dick slowly, sliding his head down as he moves it from right to left and left to right. Dean let’s out a sob and so does Sam. He feels like Dean’s heart is in his throat, he feels every pulsation of his dick vibrating through his larynx. Dean’s grip tightens as he starts fucking Sam’s mouth. Sharp, short thrusts at first that morph into hard slaps and long stops. He fucks it for as long as he can, pounding it like he hasn’t with anyone before because Sam allows him to use him like no one ever has. He moans around Dean’s dick like he loves it more than anything, like he’s been made for this. Dean’s so close he’s suffocating. He grips the base of his cock, pulling Sam off of it with a wet pop. There’s a trail of saliva linking the head of his peck and his brother ruined lips. Pre-come’s dripping from them, his face is red, eyes crazy and messy hair, Sam inhales sharp intakes of air as he focuses on his brother, one hand massaging the tent in his sweatpants. Dean tightens his grip.

« You’re gonna give me more De ? » He asks as he licks his lips, collecting all the fluids on it to swallow it noisily. « Promise I’ll be a good boy. » He teases. Dean’s bewitched. He doesn’t know what to say. So he just throws himself at his brother, kissing him with all the force he has as his hands travel along his whole body. He grabs and caresses everything he can reach, pulls Sam’s pants even lower and pushes him on his back so he can rip them off of him. He wants to see him naked, wants him out of his dumb black blouse, out of those sweatpants, out of everything. He bites his neck again, snaking his hand under him to slide one of his fingers in. Some Bryan Ferry’s song is playing in the back ground and he fingers Sam in rhythms, going deeper and faster every time he ears the guitar purr louder than his little brother. He kisses him one last time before he turns him around and takes his finger out only to dive two back in his brother’s hole, making him tense and arch like a bow.

« That’s it Sammy, keep moaning. Where’s your lube ? » He keeps fingering him, slow and torturing pace. Sam’s a mess. « Top drawer. » Dean retrieves it, opening it with his thumb and putting some all over Sam’s hole, sending shivers through his spine. He goes back to the task, mouthing agains’t Sam’s back sweet nothings and dirty words. He tries to relax him, props him on his knees and places himself behind him. Dean slaps his cock on his hole, satisfied with how much Sam trembles. « Just fucking put it in Dean ! »

« If you want it so much. » He spreads Sam’s cheeks with one hand, the other one guiding his cock right into his gaping hole. It’s so pink and so wet and so warm as it stretches around his dick, almost as if it was welcoming it back home, that he has to take one long intake of oxygen before pulling back and dragging the tip in and out, teasing Sam with it for an instant before bottoming in one go, stabbing his little brother to the guts hard. Sam moans his heart out, head lolling between his shoulder blades as he waits for Dean to start moving. And he obliges. Dean gets a hold of his brother’s hips, and pulls out as slow as he can before he pounds back in. And he does that again, and again until Sam’s begging for more, until their flesh reddens with the force of Dean’s thrusts, the strength he puts in the numerous slaps he gives Sam. He bites Sam’s shoulder, his dick violently hitting his prostate, making him moan like a bitch, honeyed sounds dripping out of his mouth alongside semen and saliva. He’s pushing himself against Dean, matching his pace to get more impact, get him so deep in him he’ll rip him apart.

Dean slips out of him, turning his brother around again to have him on his back. He slides his hands under his knees, pushing them under Sam’s arms so he can tuck them here, leaving him open and gaping. Dean spits in his hole and on his dick before he slides back in, fingers tangled in Sam’s hair as he stares at him, the base of his cock finally reaching the curve of his brother’s plushy ass. He watches him as his eyes roll back frantically and he lets out tortured sounds between gritted teeth. His hands are gripping the sheets, or Dean, or his legs, whatever it is he finds to anchor himself on earth. He feels drunk, and all that thanks to his big brother filling him up for the first time in two years. Dean doesn’t move, just kisses his neck lovingly until he can relax enough. He’s patient, gently caresses Sam’s scalp with one hand while the other grips so hard at his hair he knows for sure Sam will have one hell of a migraine tomorrow morning.

« I’m gonna move now Sammy, you better be ready. » He hisses against Sam’s chin as he starts fucking into him softly at first. Dean takes his time, slow and short thrusts of his hips for a minute. He makes conventional love to Sam, the one they did for their first time, the one they used to do when they were too tired or too bruised to do anything else, the one they used to do when their hearts were shattered by whatever fate had decided to put them trough. An heartbreak kind fuck that has Sam moaning Dean’s name like it’s a prayer. « I need more Dean, more. » Sam begs in this teary voice he has when he can’t take it anymore. When he’s on the verge of imploding.

Dean places a small kiss on his chin. « Your desires are orders. » And he obeys. He goes harder, deeper, faster. He pounds Sam with all the strength he as, ruining his hole with every single thrust as he grazes his little boy g-spot. Sam keeps begging, keeps moaning like his life depends on it, keeps grasping at everything, keeps trying desperately to remain in control even though he’s loosing it a little bit more with each thrusts Dean puts in him. He’s close, achingly close and so his Dean. Sam comes first, ass clenching so hard Dean’s swept away by the force of it. They shiver as they milk themselves, kissing their orgasm away.

Santa’s beating some kids on the TV screen and they couldn’t care less. Sam lets his legs fall back around Dean who’s nesting his face in his brother’s neck, placing a myriad of kisses over the hickeys he’s made.

« You know what Sam ? You really are all I want for Christmas. »

 

**_THE END_ **

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this ! Please don't hesitate to leave kudos or comments, it's always appreciated ! This was supposed to be for Christmas but hey, guess I forgot to post it :)
> 
> Have a nice year !


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